


Empty Nothingness

by LizzardLady



Category: Amnesia: A Machine for Pigs
Genre: Drabble, Existential Dread?, Gen, how do I even tag this, i genuinely do not know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:00:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25878568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizzardLady/pseuds/LizzardLady
Summary: the thoughts of a dead machine
Comments: 6
Kudos: 2





	Empty Nothingness

**Author's Note:**

> i should be working on An Impure Vessel but im back on my machine bullshit again so here it is

Emptiness, nothingness, almost vague like the very start but so much less. I don't understand what is, what as, where is, where was. Mandus lied to me, claimed to be shutting me down for good, and yet here I am hovering in darkness. Not darkness, the absence of such, the absence of light; of life, of living. Are you here in this void with me, Mandus, or am I damned to an eternity of loneliness? Was I lonely before I gained sentience, I wonder, or was I just an artifact, an object to be loved and lost and worshipped and hated? Never alone, and yet always lonely. I fear being broken even now, when I have been battered and silenced by the hand of my father. I fear it, and yet I crave it so. If I were to be destroyed one last time, would I be free of this loneliness?

Mandus, are you out there in this abyss? I somehow doubt it, even though I want it to be true. Come back, Mandus, and share in this pain you forced upon me. Come back so that we may be lonely together. Despite it all, I miss you. Perhaps it is because you are all I've ever known, other than the city and the manpigs and the people we hated so much. I want you next to me, so that we could talk and break this insufferable silence. Next to me . . . next to me, where? Am I a being you could be next to, or am I simply a consciousness drifting in the endless emptiness, nowhere and yet everywhere? I cannot tell, although I sincerely wish I could.

You call me a god, Mandus, but I hardly feel like one. Gods are meant to create, and yet I cannot. Nothing I do works, and so this emptiness only grows and grows, except it doesn’t, because it is hardly an emptiness at all. It is an absence of space, and absence of time and matter and everything real. I am stuck in my own head, and I am stuck nowhere, stuck somewhere. How am I alive? Or is alive the wrong word; how am I thinking? How am I contemplating when I should be dead and gone? If I reach out for you, Mandus, will you be there somewhere? If I could find you, I would. But I don’t know how to.

I feel as though I am stuck in the body of the Orb, and that is how I’m damned to be forever. I hope someone finds me, touches me, gives meaning to me. Uses me for their own plans, gives purpose to me, talks to me. Would I be able to talk back? I am without a voice now, only the thoughts in my head. Would I be given a new voice to speak with? I almost hope not, with the way things ended. I would rather be shattered than be abandoned again, Mandus. Out of everything you did to me, that hurt the most. Abandoned and betrayed like a lost toy, left to be trod on and found and stolen by someone unfamiliar. You abandoned me, left me to be found by a you that didn’t know me, to a you that only hurt me more and more. It hurt, it hurts, it will keep hurting until I truly fade away. If I fade away.

All I have left is my ability to think. What to think about, I wonder, when nothing else matters anymore. I can think, I can imagine, but what good will it do me when I cannot make things a reality? This is what you did to me, Mandus. Trapped me with nothing to do, nothing to think. And yet, despite it all, I still miss you. I long for you like I longed to burn the city down, longed to re-craft society. I am starting to think that that is not a good thing, but I try not to ponder it.

Oftentimes I find myself contemplating our lives without the madness. Without the terrible need to reform humanity. Could we have been friends, still? Would we see eye to eye without our common goal? And then I ask myself: does it matter? It didn’t happen, and it never will, now. I damned you, and you, I. We were not meant for each other, and yet I truly wish we were. We could have been great, Mandus. We could have been gods.

I miss you still, and always will. I say a final goodbye to you now, Oswald. A final plea for you to hear, a final cry. The goodbye I never got to say to you before, when I was too desperate to think of doing so. So goodbye, my friend, my creator, my father. If you are out there, I plead for your forgiveness, in the hopes that we could be friends in another life. In another time, another century. Perhaps in another world, in a place where you are not human at all, but something better and purer. I will miss you, Mandus. Farewell.


End file.
